An Interesting Weakness
by Icebabe59
Summary: Teen!lock, where Molly gets a bloody nose, and Sherlock doesn't handle it with his usual fineness.


Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to BBC's Sherlock or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes or anything like that.

Molly Hooper was exasperated. The night had been going as well as any fifteen-year-old girl could have hoped. The most popular – and arguably some of the hottest – guys at school were throwing a party and she had been lucky enough to be invited.

It was only the biggest party of the year and Molly had been so excited. She had spent two days picking, re-picking, and fine tuning her outfit and worrying how to do her hair and make-up.

Now of course that was all for nothing as the young girl found herself locked in the bathroom with a gusher of a bloody nose. It wasn't really anyone's fault really that Molly was bleeding. She simply hadn't been paying attention to where she was walking and the boy who had been wildly swinging his arms about didn't know that she was behind him. He seemed genuinely sorry about the incident and had offered to help her clean up, but Molly just waved him off as she dashed to the nearest bedroom. It would have been awkward anyway, another person trying to help her staunch her bloody nose.

So there she was, leaning back on the toilet in some stranger's loo, and not happy about it in the slightest. She was just about certain that the waterfall of blood had slowed down when Molly heard a fain clicking sound from the other side of the locked door.

"There is someone in here!" She called as best she could through the tissues in her nostrils, but it came out so muffled that Molly couldn't be sure that whoever it was had actually heard her. The clicking did stop though, so Molly assumed that she had been head. That assumption however was proven wrong when only moments later the door swung open.

"Ah Ha!" The boy who busted in shouted only moments before taking on a puzzled expression. "You are _not_ Dylan."

"That obvious?" Molly responded as sarcastically as possible through her still plugged nose. The boy's expression changed slightly as his dark, curly hair flopped in from of his ice blue eyes and he looked around the room.

As soon as he took the time to really see Molly and her surroundings the boy's pale skin seemed to take on a ghostly pallor. Suddenly he seemed to be grasping at the air around him, looking for support and eventually settled for leaning against the closest wall as Molly started to clean up the blood from her face and hands, keeping the stranger in view through the mirror in front of her.

While she watched him however she realized that the boy in front of her was not actually a stranger at all. "You are Sherlock Holmes." Molly said accusingly, her back still to him, watching him behind her own reflection. He was the strange boy no one would pay attention too at school, but was somehow saved from bullying. Molly now got the feeling that he had fended off the would be bullies by gathering information about them on things that they probably wanted kept quiet. Sherlock mumbled noncommittally, something about "too much blood," or the like and leaned further against the wall.

Molly didn't notice for a moment while she carefully patted the water off of her face with the towel next to the sink, but as soon as she had drawn herself away from the soft linen she noticed just how pail Sherlock had become. "You alright?" she asked nervously. He looked like he was going to be sick and Molly wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be around for that.

"Fine," Sherlock responded seemingly trying to gather himself up in order to leave the bathroom, only to falter and have to lean back against the doorframe.

"No, you are not." Molly asserted her caretaking side taking over rather than her urge to leave the possibly sick boy.

"Yes, I am fine." Sherlock's voice was somewhat stronger now, but Molly still insisted on leading him towards the edge of the bathtub where he could sit and perhaps be able to relax a bit.

Just as she had him settled, semi-comfortably with any luck, a thought popped into Molly's head that made her giggle. "Is the great Sherlock Holmes, the one boy in our year that everyone is afraid of really afraid of a little blood?"

"No." Sherlock said resentfully.

"So yes then," Molly said with a large smile. "It's alright, deep breaths. You will be fine."


End file.
